


when you kissed me, i felt a new freedom

by teamfreeawesome



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dick Pics, Drinking, Drunken Flirting, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Other, Pillow & Blanket Forts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 19:09:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14118987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamfreeawesome/pseuds/teamfreeawesome
Summary: Dick pics and blanket forts are like. Legitimate ways to woo a dude, right? Right.





	when you kissed me, i felt a new freedom

**Author's Note:**

> For a lovely prompt by a lovely anon on tumblr, who very definitely did not mention dick pics, and instead requested blanket forts. I'm so sorry. 
> 
> Title from 'Moments Passed' by Dermot Kennedy. 
> 
> disclaimer: no harm was intended by the writing of this. i don't, in any way, equate these fictional characters to their real-life counterparts.

Tyson is wasted. Like, _tanked_. Three sheets to the wind and happy about it. He’s the kind of drunk where everything seems like it’s moving much slower than normal, sound filtering in weirdly like he’s underwater. His limbs have stopped paying attention to him, moving where and when they want without any actual input from his brain.

The team are smashed too. Mikko is the only one who looks even vaguely sober, but Tyson’s pretty sure that’s only because he’s had a lot of practice looking less drunk than he actually is. Mikko can’t even tie a tie. There’s no way he’s the most responsible and adult out of all of them. That’s just _fake_.

“Alright?” Nate yells, sliding into the space next to Tyson.

His hand lands clumsily on Tyson’s shoulder, and it makes Tyson shiver. It’s big. Warm. He bets Nate would give amazing hand-jobs. Which. He should definitely stop imagining. Fuck.

“Come and dance with me and Gabe,” Nate shouts, lips brushing the curve of Tyson’s ear as he leans in closer.

It’s like. A lot. Tyson’s gut clenches, hot and tight. He kind of wants to fall against a wall and let Nate push one of his huge thighs between his legs. Wants to dance-grind against him until they’re sweaty and panting, and Tyson is coming in his pants.

“You know you want to,” Nate continues.

“Want to what?” Tyson yells back.

He’s lost the thread of the conversation. All he can seem to focus on is the way Nate’s thighs look in his jeans.

“Dance with me and Gabe,” Nate says again. He pauses. Smirks. “You _know_ you want to. He’s taken his shirt off.”

And –

It’s like a whole-body shiver rolls down Tyson’s spine. He feels like his head is full of white noise, mind stuck on Nate’s thighs and Gabe’s abs. On the image of them dancing together, Nate’s hands sliding over Gabe’s bare skin as their hips roll to the beat.

“I hate you,” Tyson yells, his voice cracking. “You’re the worst.”

“He’s a bit sweaty too,” Nate says.

Tyson swallows.

“That’s no incentive,” he says weakly. “ _Everyone’s_ sweaty right now.”

The room feels like it’s spinning, and Nate is the only thing that looks even a bit solid. Tyson reaches out. Touches the skin of Nate’s wrist to ground himself. His skin feels too hot, and he’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or the image of Gabe dancing half-naked and sweaty that’s making him feel untethered and woozy. Gabe’s probably doing all sorts of horrible dance moves that he thinks make him look sexy, and Tyson knows that even a glimpse of that, especially if Nate’s there too, will make his stomach all twisty –

Fuck. Now is not the time to kind of need to vomit.

“Nate,” Tyson whines. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Oh shit,” Nate says. “Just hold on for me, okay?” He continues. “I’m gonna get you some water, and then me and Gabe will take you outside for some air.”

“ _Gabe_?” Tyson asks. “Nooooo.”

He jumps as strong hands come to rest on his shoulders. There’s a warm body at his back, and it smells like gin, sweat and something distinctly Gabe. Ugh. The worst. Tyson’s pretty sure that whatever happens next is only going to end in humiliation. Tyson’s humiliation. God, he wishes it was possible to sink through the floor. Or, like, best-case scenario, get on his knees and kiss Gabe’s dick. Though, maybe not right this second. He might be sick on Gabe’s dick, and he doesn’t think that would go down well.

“C’mon buddy,” Gabe says.

“I’m coming,” Tyson sighs. “Don’t worry. I promise I won’t be sick on your dick.”

A pointed silence, and it takes Tyson a second to register what he’s said. Fuck. His skin feels like it’s burning, humiliation washing over him in a throbbing wave.

“Uh,” Gabe starts, but thankfully Tyson is saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of Nate, brandishing a glass of water proudly.

He forces the glass into Tyson’s hand, and watches as he downs it. As soon as Tyson’s done, Nate makes the glass disappear as Gabe tugs him towards the exit.

It’s freezing outside, and Tyson shivers, pulling his jacket tight around himself. His ears feel weird, an he can’t really hear anything except a muffled kind of pounding coming from the club behind him.

Out the corner of his eye, he can see Nate and Gabe having some kind of heated conversation with their eyes, and Tyson’s pretty sure that it’s about him.

“I’m not ridiculous,” he asserts, swaying into Nate’s space. “I’m just a bit drunk.”

His head does feel kind of heavy, so he shuffles closer to Nate and lets it rest on Nate’s shoulder. It’s very comfy, and Tyson thinks that he might just take a nap here.

“Okay there?” Nate asks, and he sounds amused.

“Mm,” Tyson hums.

Next to him, Gabe chuckles softly.

“You look comfy,” he says.

Listen, Tyson has no idea why he’s friends with either of these two assholes. They both have ridiculous shoulders and horrible smiles and terrible thighs. It’s the _worst_.

“I hate you both,” he says. “Take me home and leave me to die.”

“Fake,” Nate says, and laughs a little. “You love us.”

“Definitely fake,” Gabe agrees. “Hey, the cab’s almost here.”

His voice sounds all soft, and he reaches out to touch Tyson’s hand in this horrible, awful, careful way that makes all of Tyson’s insides go soft and useless. It’s ridiculous and appalling and involves one hundred per cent more feelings that Tyson wants to be dealing with currently. All his Gabe related feelings are always just… over the top and terrible. Nate feelings are gentler. They tend to be warmer. Fluffier. Soft, domestic and safe. And, it’s not that one is better than the other or anything, just… different.

“Fluffy and domestic?” Nate asks, and –

Tyson slaps a hand over his mouth. He said that out _loud_? Fuck. He knows it’s not exactly surprising, considering his inability to contain his feelings even when he’s sober, but seriously? Tyson needs to get a hold of his _mouth_. Or, like, crawl into a cave and become a bearded hermit who only communicates by carrier pigeon for the rest of his life.

“Cab’s here,” Gabe murmurs. “Get home safe, eh?”

He pats Tyson on the shoulder gently, before disappearing back into the club. Nate, with admirable dexterity considering how drunk he also probably is, contends with Tyson’s sudden case of noodle-limbs commendably, and manages to shuffle Tyson into the cab with no bruises.

It’s not a long journey home, but the soft rumble of the cab’s engine makes Tyson’s eyelids droop, and he finds himself slowly dropping off to sleep on Nate’s shoulder.

 

//

 

He wakes up the next morning, and his mouth tastes like something died in it. His face is stuck to his pillow with spit, and he’s pretty sure he spilt water all over the floor trying to hydrate before bed. The light filtering in through his curtains feels like it’s burning, searing into his eyes and skin, and he turns over with a groan.

His stomach roils, and he pulls the covers higher, his skin clammy with night-old sweat. His shirt has twisted uncomfortably at some point in his sleep, and he’s lying on horribly bunched piece of fabric that’s digging into his skin. His jeans have been unbuttoned, but the metal has probably still left an impression on his belly. Nate must have just tipped him into bed and left him to it.

Fumbling for his phone for the time, his stomach lurches when he sees the list of unread messages. Memories from the evening before wash over him in a dragging, distressing wave, his skin prickling with mortification, and he quickly shoves his phone under his pillow. Fuck.

 

//

 

They’re all from Nate and Gabe. He’d used their group chat apparently.

Nate:   _um_.

Is the first message, and Tyson has to put his phone down for a second and breathe deeply until he can stomach reading any further.

Gabe: _did you mean to send that to us_

It’s got all the words spelt right and everything, which is never a good sign. Fuck.

Nate:   _also like no offence tys but that’s a shit photo_

_objectively i mean_

_your dick is fine_

_or whatever_

_but dude_

Listen. Tyson’s doesn’t have an excuse for this, but. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He feels sick. He scrolls up in the chat, and there it is. A blurry, out-of-focus photo of his dick. Shit. He’s not really sure where he’s supposed to go from here. He doesn’t even remember taking the picture, but it was clearly and obviously taken last night; picture-Tyson is definitely wearing his going-out jeans, and those are very definitely his bed sheets.

Look, if he’d just sent it to Nate, he wouldn’t be so bothered. They’d probably just laugh about it. He’s embarrassed himself in front of Nate enough times that it’s not that big a deal anymore. They’re best friends. But, like. Gabe. Fuck.

He jumps when his phone buzzes.

_u awake yet_

It’s a text from Nate.

Nate:   _i made pancakes_

Nate, who is clearly still in Tyson’s house.

Tyson: _leave me here to die_

He feels hot with embarrassment, and he kind of wants some time to recover before he has to talk to either Nate _or_ Gabe.

Nate:   _nope_

Tyson reads the message just as Nate pushes Tyson’s bedroom door open with a bang.

“Dude,” he says, smirking. He’s definitely laughing at Tyson. Fuck. “C’mon. You can’t sit in bed all day.”

“I can,” Tyson says. “And I will.”

Nate sighs. He walks over to the bed and shoves Tyson gently until there’s room for him to slide into bed next to him. Nate’s obviously showered, and his arm feels so warm where it’s pressed against Tyson’s own. Tyson’s heart throbs painfully. God. He wishes he could crawl under his covers and live there for weeks. He doesn’t want to see Nate’s face. Feel Nate’s skin. He feels too vulnerable, like a layer has been peeled back, and he needs some time to put the armour back on.

“Tys,” Nate says, and it’s all soft. Sincere in a way they aren’t often with each other. “It’s not a big deal, bro.”

Tyson groans. Presses his burning face into Nate’s chest and closes his eyes. It’s a nice chest. Soft but firm. He shivers as Nate slides his arms around Tyson’s back.

“It _is_ a big deal,” Tyson whines. “I basically told him that I had _feelings_ for him at the bar, and now I’ve sent him a dick pic with _intention_. It’s not like it’s an accidental bro-dick-pic. It’s a I-think-you’re-hot-and-want-to-kiss-you-and-maybe-also-hold-your-hand-and-get-married dick pic.”

Nate blinks.

“An accidental bro-dick-pic?”

“Oh my _god_ , Nate, that’s not the important part of what I just said,” Tyson whines. “You know what I mean! When you send a friend a dick pic.”

“I’ve literally never sent a friend a dick pic. It’s not really a thing you do with friends, dude. Unless you’re super drunk and you’ve sent it to the wrong person accidentally, and even then it’s not really a bro-dick-pic. It’s more like an oh-shit-don’t-open-that dick pic.”

Listen, Tyson knows that sending bro-dick-pics isn’t like, a _normal_ person thing to do, but hockey players are different. The boundaries are different. He’s sent and received many a bro-dick-pic. Mostly from Tyler Seguin, to be honest, but _still_.

“Tyler Seguin has sent me a friend dick pic before,” Tyson says, because he’s not letting this go.

“Tyler Seguin has sent everyone a friend dick pic before,” Nate says, laughing. “He’s the exception to the rule, dude. Listen, it’s not a big deal. Just forget about it and move on. Gabe probably will too. Or, you could actually _say_ something. Like, ask him out, or whatever.”

“I can’t ask him out,” Tyson wails. “He’s like, a twenty on the hot scale, and I’m just -”

“You’re not ‘just’ anything, Brutes,” Nate says. “C’mon, you’re hot, dude.”

Tyson, like, whole-body flushes. It’s horrible, and also a little bit sweaty under the weight of his bed covers. Fuck. He wants Nate to _mean_ it. Not in a bro way, but like. Listen, Tyson’s head is a muddle of confusing thoughts. He likes Nate. _Loves_ Nate, probably, but he also really likes Gabe. Wants to fuck Gabe. Get fucked by Gabe. Or, like, whatever - he just wants some fucking to happen.

“Listen,” Nate says, when the silence drags on. “I’ve made pancakes, so you’re gonna come downstairs and eat them, and then we’re gonna watch shit movies and not think about dick pics and who you may or may not have sent them to.”

Tyson groans, and shifts so he can press his face into his pillow. Maybe if he just merges with the bed sheets Nate will finally leave him alone to be mortified in peace.

 

//

 

 

He gets downstairs, and there’s a blanket fort in his living room. Which, like. What the _fuck_?

“Nate,” he says. “Bro. Dude. Did you make that?” He points at it accusingly. “ _Why_ did you make that?”

“Because,” Nate says.

“That’s not a reason!”

Nate just smirks. Gestures at the fort.

“Go on,” he says. “I promise you’ll like what’s in there.”

“I won’t,” Tyson says belligerently. “Plus, you promised me pancakes.”

“Pancakes afterwards. And you will like it, dude. I _promise_.”

Tyson wrinkles his nose.

“I won’t.”

“You really, really will. Tyson, seriously.”

“I will _not_.”

“ _Tyson_. Dude. Just get in the fucking blanket fort,” Nate snaps. “Why are you fighting me on this? It’s something nice, bro. I’ve done something nice for _you_.”

Tyson grimaces, chastened.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m sorry, dude. It looks great.”

Nate beams. The fort does look good. He’s just –

He doesn’t know. It looks like Nate has raided every closet in Tyson’s house for blankets and duvets, and from the looks of the couch, cushions too. It’s a little lopsided, but the kind of lopsided that suggests it was made with love and affection, rather than lack of care. It’s sweet.

He ends up on his knees, crawling through the blanket entrance, and –

Bumps into Gabe?

He backs up instantly.

 _What the fuck?!_ He mouths at Nate. _Gabe????!!!!!!_

Nate rolls his eyes and makes shooing motions at him.

_Yes!!! Get back in there!!!_

_No!!!!!!!!_

_Yes!!!!!!!_

Fuck. He gets that Nate was trying to do a nice thing, but. But.

But.

 

//

 

He ends up in his kitchen. Nate’s poking at some pancakes awkwardly, and Gabe’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed. Both of them look kind of droopy and disappointed. Tyson has no idea what the fuck is going on.

“Nate,” Tyson starts. “ _Nate_.”

His voice seems to echo around the kitchen, ringing endlessly in his ears as he gets steadily more red.

“The _dick pic_!” He blurts out, and instantly wishes the ground would swallow him.

Nate flushes.

“Uh,” he starts. “Uh.”

“We liked it,” Gabe says from the doorway.

“You _liked_ it?”

“Yeah,” Gabe says. “Listen, maybe we didn’t do this the best way. You’re totally allowed to say no. We just got – Nate said you’d always wanted a blanket fort in your living room, so we just – fuck.”

“Do _what_ the best way?”

“Woo you,” Nate says.

His shoulders are hunched, and he won’t meet Tyson’s gaze.

“ _What_?” Tyson asks.

“We wanted to woo you. With pancakes and a blanket fort,” Nate says. “We – I’ve liked you for so long, dude. And then, Gabe was like ‘oh, I’ve been pining for Tyson since I got here.’ And so, we wanted to woo you, but like. Then the dick pic happened and it seemed like a good time to try?”

“I -” Tyson says. His skin feels so hot. He just –

“Yes,” he says. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Gabe asks.

“Yes. You’ve wooed me. Great, lovely. Now?”

Gabe blinks.

“We date?”

He shifts awkwardly.

“We _date_ ,” Tyson repeats. “Fuck, we can date? The three of us?”

“Yeah,” Nate says.

“ _Yes_ ,” Gabe says.

“How does that even work?” Tyson asks. “I want that so bad, but how?”

Gabe smiles, and it’s so, so soft.

“It works however we want it to.”

 

//

 

They end up in the blanket fort. It’s warm. Soft. Cradles them all perfectly.

Nate has disproportionately large hands that tremble as he cradles Gabe’s face. Tyson knows that his nails are bitten down to the quick, and that there’s a scar on the knuckle of his thumb from a cooking accident. He knows what Nate likes to eat, and the way Nate looks when he’s asleep. He knows Nate, but he’s never known him intimately. Like this.

Tyson watches as Nate’s hands move, brushing the breadth of Gabe’s shoulders, softly touching until they come to rest at Gabe’s waist. Gabe’s head tilts, mouth opening slightly, and Tyson can’t breathe with how much he wants to see them kiss. The air in the fort feels like it’s buzzing with tension, thick and heavy with lust. Tyson can’t take his eyes off them; off the way they’re swaying into each other’s space, Nate nuzzling into the hollow under Gabe’s ear as Gabe’s head tilts even further back.

Nate hums, soft, nips at Gabe’s earlobe, before turning to Tyson and licking his lips.

“You should kiss him first,” he says. “He’d like that.”

“Fuck,” Tyson says, flushing even hotter.

Nate grins.

“I’ve just warmed him up for you.” His tongue flicks out to touch the corner of Gabe’s mouth, before he pulls away again. “C’mon, bro.”

Gabe smirks as Tyson crawls over to him. His eyes look so dark, and Tyson can’t help the shiver that follows. Meeting Gabe’s gaze feels like a revelation. There’s something hot and aching in his eyes; in his mouth, and in the way his hands touch Tyson’s skin, settling warmly on his waist.

Sucking in a breath, Tyson reaches out to touch the rough-soft scratch of Gabe’s beard with a shaking hand. His heart is pounding, and his ears are ringing. Gabe is so close, and he’s so warm. Tyson can feel Gabe’s breath on his skin. Everything feels cloudy and stretchy, and there’s heat simmering under his skin. Letting his eyes flutter shut, his mouth meets Gabe’s. Their teeth click for a second before they adjust, and then –

Then –

They kiss in a slow, heated slide of mouth against mouth, tongues slipping out to taste tentatively at each other. Gabe’s hands come up to cradle Tyson’s face, and Tyson’s breath hitches as Gabe licks into his mouth, dirty and hot, and pulls Tyson in closer. It’s like nothing he’s felt before; _means_ something in a way it hasn’t before, and he can feel the heat of Nate’s gaze on them. It feels like he’s spinning, dizzying and glorious. It’s not until Gabe pulls away that the ground feels solid beneath him again.

“That was fucking hot,” Nate says. “My turn now.”

He reaches out. Smooths the collar of Tyson’s shirt. Brushes the hollow of Tyson’s throat, and smirks when Tyson swallows hard.

“Okay?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Tyson says.

Nate still leans in slow. Cradles Tyson’s face. His palms are warm. Huge against Tyson’s cheeks, and Tyson can’t help the moan that escapes. Grinning, Nate brushes the softest of kisses to the corner of Tyson’s mouth.

“Gorgeous,” he whispers, breath hot across Tyson’s lips.

His tongue darts out, quick, to lick at the seam of Tyson’s mouth, and –

Tyson’s lips fall open. He feels desperate. Warm and wanting. Kissing Nate –

It’s all tongue and lips; open mouths and the soft, shuddery feeling of lust curling under his skin. He’s held still and desperate beneath Nate’s huge hands, kissing until Tyson can’t breathe, lips and tongues and bodies sinking and sliding together until there’s no distinction between them at all.

Nate pulls back with a wet noise, and smiles, his chest heaving.

“ _Gorgeous_.” His eyes flutter shut for a second as he visibly pulls himself back together. Opens his eyes again. “Gabe’s turn.”

“Fuck,” Tyson says, something hot and heavy squirming in his belly.

Turning, Nate twists his hands into the hair at the nape of Gabe’s neck. He tugs Gabe’s head back, firm but gentle, and licks a stripe up Gabe’s neck.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Nate says, and Tyson can see the way it makes Gabe shiver.

With a hum, Nate tugs Gabe closer, mouth closing over Gabe’s, and –

Tyson moans. They’re beautiful. Gorgeous.

Fuck.

He wants to keep them forever.

 

//

 

They don’t have sex. Not then, anyway.

They do talk about it. About logistics and jealousy and all the other things that are important in any relationship. It isn’t an easy conversation, but it’s a good one. A vital one.

Tyson has to admit, though, that he mostly comes away from the conversation feeling _loved_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-d and I kind of lost momentum at the end ??? It probably needs many more words in the blanket fort section to turn it into something well written (haha) but I have eighty billion deadlines and also wanted to post this before tomorrow !!! Hope it was enjoyable anyway !!! 
> 
> Let me know if this needs more/better tags !!!
> 
> [tumblr](http://teamfreeawesome.tumblr.com)


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